Loud and ludicrous conversations, vile laughters that ting every now and then, wine's bouquet and noisome odors, ugly men and fat women, maids who carry foods on trays to mucky tables, foul-mouthed men juiced in alcohol to the throats who reach out for dirty thoughts on the maids, a grimy space and filthy floor that still suffers from the dirt of the last guests who dropped by. A wretched with long and loose hair grabs the bottom skin bag of a maid. It strongly distracts her. She jumps back and tries hard to keep her tray from falling. "Thatís a round and beautiful ball. Come with me to the upper floor." He wambles and says. "Nobody will come with you!" The bartender appears on him from the back and snarls. The man turns his head, stumbling back and forth on his feet. He is hung like a horse and barely holds the bottle in his hand. "Fuck off woman. Nobody asked you to come. Youíre ugly and fat." He spews the last words and gets a quick punch right in the face from the cheerless bartender. Her fist flattens him like a carpet on the floor and leaves him unconscious. A young guy on the table nearby slightly tilts down to him and says. "Itís leaking from his nostrils." They burst out a laughter. Among the crowd sits a lone woman on the farthest table under a hood. Sheís the only one who doesnít laugh and strangely keeps quiet. Thereís a tray of cheesy meat before her that smells like muddy grounds. She ignores it and tastes the drink. Cheap wine, still a trusty taste in the mouth. Everyone keeps drinking and talking. She aims her eyesight down at the man who said that about the wretched on the floor. He got a glum blue coat, gold tinted pocket watch, and quilled handkerchief to the side of his coat that specialize him from the rest of the filthy crowd. He talks business with the other men at the table. A maid pours more wine in her cup. She grabs her hand and puts two coins of gold in her palm. "See that man over there... give him the finest drink you serve." She asks from the maid and sends her off to deliver her graciousness. Meanwhile she casts her eyes at him and his friends and minds the topic of their conversation. But other conversations overpower the noise in that place. All that she gets is silent weird gestures and persistent finger of the man that taps on the table to emphasize something. The maid brings him a goblet of drink. He wonders and asks about it. She addresses him to the back, where the woman in the long gray robe is watching him. He thanks the maid then lifts the goblet in gesture of respect. She rises her own cup and returns the greeting. A man joins her and blocks her sights to that guy. He wears a belt to which he carries a short sword. The rough scar upon his left eye doesnít go well with his professional smile. He does not wear an eyepatch because the whiteness in his blind eye is a hideous look and simply discourages people to look at him. "Youíre a hard woman to find." He says. "But you found me." She replies unwillingly. "I knew I could find you here. You like noisy crowded places." He says. "Howís your arm by the way?" She puts her cup down, "I can wield a sword better than before." He increases his smile in a ridiculous way. "Spirit of an unrivaled warrior." He says and grins. "Stop messing around. Youíre not here for a cheesy chat. Speak your wish." She says to him. The man bends gently on the table in order to keep his voice from traveling around. "Iíve got a new contract for you." He whispers with cheer in his only eye. "Iím not interested." She just responds. "Hear me out. I promise a fair price. I know it can please you, otherwise I wouldnít be here wasting time with you." He says and his smile wears off. "You better make me want this, otherwise youíll be wasting time." She says. "Itís been rumored that a witch lives up the dark sides of the forest. She has become a symbol of terror to villagers. They say she roams around in a red robe and murders young virgins. The duke promised me a chest of thousand coins!! You can have a half of it. Five hundred coins of gold in a royal chest." He licks his lips and says. "Forget about it. And donít concern me witch witches again." She gives him a grisly look and puts her leg forward to get up. But he holds her hand and makes her stay. "Donít get away so quickly. This is a great reward. Besides, you hate witches for a good reason. Donít you want to take back what they took away from you? I know that you want revenge so bad. Donít deny." He continues just as she begins to think over his words. "The hate in your eyes is still aflame. How long do you want to keep on doing cheap paid contracts? This deal can make you an instant wealthy person with no needs of killing. Think well, think wise. I make it six hundred for you. You can have your revenge and a great reward." He encourages her and grins at last. She looks at the guy over the hall and looks back at him. He might have a snake behind that look, but he is right. She wants revenge. And what a greater purpose to tend to do something serious? She asks herself. Fifteen coins of gold against a six hundred coins of gold. How many cheap contracts can get her that much? Now it sounds fair. Her nous suggests that she better walks away, but her heart terribly wants her to accept it. In the middle of her confusion she tends to listen to her feelings. "Seven hundred." She gets his hand off herself and says. His face slumps. His lips shake and he doubtfully hesitates to answer, but then he says. "Seven hundred coins for you. Kill the bitch!" She pushes the door open. The hinges squeal like a warning. Itís dark and moistened outside. She heads her way down. When she thinks about the word of witch, her entire limbs shake, but the same time a burning surrounds her heart that pains her with some horrific memories. She uses it to fuel her rage. A few moments after her the guy and his friends leave the tavern. He wishes a good evening for his friends and walks his own way alone and drunken. He can walk but his eyesight is as fuzzy as shadows dance in front of his eyes. He heads it down that way to the darker sides, where silence and shadows rule around. He begins to sing a song in his solitude, dancing to himself in the calm. A little further she gets out of the shadows and follows him down. As he sings and swings unsteadily, she stabs a dagger in his spine and passes on with hurried steps. His singing shuts and he falls to his knees. His try to reach the dagger in his back fails. Some blood leak out of his lips gently. His eyes lose upwards. He collapses on the watery flagstones.